Like Books on a Shelf
by Iscah McKrae
Summary: Chapter 2 - "Like The Hulk and Doc Ock" - Jess helps his little girl deal with some tricky emotions. Definitely in the PAY THE PIPER storyverse. Appearances by Rory and a baby Oliver. Obviously, pro-Literati.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: After writing 'Man to Man,' I had several requests to show the whole Mariano family together (Jess, Rory, Jessica, Oliver, and Laura) I can't say that's exactly what this is, but it does include a little of both Rory and Oliver and a lot of Jess and Jessica. Laura won't be born for another couple of years, though. I've been picking at this for awhile. For those who love 'Pay the Piper,' here's a glimpse of Jessica at age 9. Hope you like it.**_

Both Rory and Oliver were taking a nap, and Jessica was in her room with a book, which left Jess with the increasingly rare opportunity to sit and write without distraction, which he did for almost ten whole minutes. But, the noise coming from down the hall made him pause and slide his wheeled office chair across the room before standing and exiting his sanctuary. Jess ducked his head around the corner. It seemed there was a vehement tongue-lashing going on in the next room, with the recipient being either notably silent or nonexistent, and the one administering this thorough dressing-down was his little girl. After the incidents of the day before, it was a little worrying, but the tone wasn't defiant. It was scolding.

He walked in, catching the tail-end of a sentence. "-at me when you're the one who's rotten and smelly and awful!" She was crouched down in front of Oliver's portable bassinet, where the little cub was beginning to squirm and make small whimpering noises.

"Hey!" he stepped in, taking the stance of a line-backer, if such is possible to do while crouching down to the level of a bassinet. "You do _not_ talk to him like that," he said pointedly, locking his eyes to hers intently, even as he reached into the bassinet with a caress to soothe the innocent little boy she'd affronted, and keep the whimpering from turning into a full squall. "What's going on?"

"Nothing." She said the word quietly, her little chin tucking guiltily inward.

Jess' eyes filled with concern and he leaned in to make eye contact again, speaking more gently. "He's a baby. Why would you be talking to him like that if nothing was going on?"

His little girl turned silent for at least twenty seconds as she was wont to do when she didn't want to answer. Sharing the same tendency, Jess understood, and watched her patiently until she was ready to respond.

Finally she looked up at him.

"I thought you said it was okay to be mad at Oliver." Jessica's mouth tightened into a scowl, her miniature brow patently adorable wrinkled in the middle above her large brown eyes.

Fewer words were more challenging to deal with as a parent than _I thought you said_. Jess held his breath, bouncing on his ankles for a second before shifting to a sitting position and heaving a prodigious sigh. "Yes…I did. But, this isn't what I meant."

Her little frown deepened, but when he patted the floor next to him, she sat there, looking up at her dad's face.

"You can _be_ mad at him all you want." He pursed his lips, pausing, and turning to look into her eyes. "But you can't take it out on _him._" It was obvious by the look on her face that this made no sense to his little girl.

"Being mad is a _feeling._"

"I know," she said softly, but with a kind of a lilt that indicated that he was silly for thinking she didn't know that.

"Feelings aren't good or bad… They just _are_. They're just _there_. It's what you do with those feelings - the things you say, and the things you do…the way you treat people, that's important."

He watched her shake a strand of hair out of her eyes, crinkle her nose and then blow at it its itchiness before trying unsuccessfully to grasp it between her fingers or wipe it away. Seeing the troublesome thread, he reached forward and brushed it away for her, and she blinked up at him, listening.

"When I told you that it was all right to be mad at Oliver, what I meant was: if that's a feeling that you feel, you shouldn't be mad at _yourself_ for feeling it. You shouldn't feel guilty. And you shouldn't tell yourself that it's _not_ how you feel. That'll just make things worse. You've got to say, 'Yes, I am angry - and that's okay.' But, then you've got to figure out what to DO."

"How?" Such a simple question with such profound implications, of which her wide eyes, the color of sunlight through strongly brewed tea, had limited comprehension.

He licked his lips, thinking for a moment. "In this instance, you'd probably want to look at the situation objectively…that means stepping outside your feelings for a minute and just thinking. And, you can think to yourself: 'Yeah, I _am_ mad that he has his own mom and dad, and I don't. But, he _is_ just a baby. It isn't his fault that he was born into this family; and he didn't take my mom away. None of it really has anything to do with him. And, he is my brother. I should be nice to him. After all, even if I'm mad, I _do_ love him.' That way, you aren't ignoring your feelings, but you don't let them control you."

He knew this was a lot for a little girl to take in; and she was staring at the patterns in the carpet, mulling it over. He tried to think of a way to make it clearer…something she could relate to.

Taking a deep breath, he tried again. "Feelings are a lot like books on a shelf. You know, some books you pick up, and you read them - and you just fall in love with them. They're just…the _best_ thing you've ever read. No matter how many times you read them, you just _can't get enough_." At the fervor of his voice, enunciating their shared passion, her eyes lit up, and he could tell she was right there with him. "You'll read them over and over, and quote them to _anybody_ who'll listen. You think about _them all the time_, and you learn from them, and maybe even _change the way you do things_ because of those books. A lot of times, they never even make it back onto the shelf!"

She nodded excitedly, and he smoothed her hair back, smiling softly at the kinship they shared.

A soft breath later: "Other books, you take them down and read them… but for whatever reason, you just don't like them." He squinted and shrugged. "You read them. You give them a fair chance; but they're just not something you'd wanna read again." A slower nod from his little girl acknowledged this. "You take whatever you can learn from the book, but you shut it…and put it back on the shelf."

Even when Jess talked for long times at a stretch-which he was apt to do with his quiet little girl more than anybody else he'd ever met-he still did so with long pauses, as it still didn't come naturally to him, and since that also allowed her to think about the things he was saying, let the synapses build their bridges and reinforce them until they'd hold.

"Feelings are the same way. Some feelings you just can't get enough of. They're _wonderful!_ They're _great!_ You'd feel that way every single day of your life if you could! You want to spread those feelings all over the whole world, and let them put their color into _everything_ you think, everything you _say_, everything you _do_. You just _can't put it down_."

The metaphor was working. Her eyes were shining again.

"Other feelings pop up in front of you, and you just _don't_ _like them_." The eyes clouded over instantly. She was mirroring every curve, every rise and fall, as if they were parallel sides of a railroad track. "They make you feel rotten inside, and you can't get rid of them fast enough. But, you really should think about them, see if you can learn anything from them - say, 'That's a feeling I have, and that's fine.'" He took a deep breath.

"But, in the end, what you want to do with them, after you give them the attention they deserve… You shut the book, and put it back on the shelf. Don't let it poison your mind, or make you say or do things you'll be sorry about… Put it away. Sure, it might come toppling off the shelf and hit you in the head now and then; or you might even pick it up and give it another read someday, to see if there's something you missed. But it's not something you need to keep reading all the time. It's not a book you wanna recommend to people you care about. It's best…kept up on the shelf."

He reached out to brush the tumbling hair from his little girl's pondering eyes. "Does that make sense?"

Her lips twisted thoughtfully for a moment before she nodded, looking up at him.

"So…no more yelling at your baby brother, at least 'till he's old enough to do something to deserve it?" he asked, cocking a smile at Jessica as he stood up.

She stood up along with him, tilted her head, and her lips twisted the other way.

"What? You think he already does stuff to deserve it?" he asked, his tone sufficiently mock-indignant to show that _yes_ was not the correct answer.

"No…" she said slowly. "But, I do _not_ like diapers," she told him firmly, and he couldn't help but laugh.

He crinkled up his nose and shook his head with a grimace. "_Nobody_ likes diapers!"

"They're gross," she added definitively, though her dad's humorously _blech_ tone did make her dismay turn slightly comic.

"_Very_," he conceded, nodding; but, squinted again with a decided look. "But, you do know he can't help that, right?"

Jessica's small shoulders raised and lowered in a monumental sigh that preceded the words: "I _know,_" and a slumping frown that made her dad chuckle and scoop her up into his arms.

His voice turned to a playful growl. "So, no…more…yelling…at…baby…brothers," he reiterated, punctuating each word with a ticklish poke that made his little girl squeal and writhe giddily. He stopped the tickling and raise his eyebrows. "Okay?" She just sat there smiling quietly at him, so he resumed the growly voice and the tickling, employing the most playful coersion known to man. "Okay?"

"Okay-okay-okay-okay-ok_aaaaeeeeeeeeey!_" she squealed as she found herself turned upside down with her head dangling by the cuffs of his pants. Jess turned it into a flip and landed her squarely on her feet, realizing that she was getting heavy enough he wouldn't be able to do that much longer.

Jessica, recovering from tickle-aftershock laughter, caught her breath and gathered with difficulty her static-charged flyaway hair.

At a cooing sort of squeak, both of them looked over at the bassinet and saw little Oliver's tiny eyebrows puckered inward in worry and a tiny lip threatening to turn into crying any second. This tickling and squealing and topsy-turvying was too much, and in baby world must have been scary…but still teetering on the brink of actually scared. So, Jess tipped the balance by picking the little boy up and bouncing _him_, which wasn't scary at all.

Jessica leaned toward the little one with a sigh and addressed him once again, "I don't ever hate you," she assured the bouncing infant who was now gurgling and enjoying himself very much. "I don't love you _all_ the time because sometimes I get angry about things that aren't your fault. But that doesn't mean I don't love you, okay?" The happy gurgling seemed like agreement to her, or at least as close to agreement as he was capable of giving. "And even if I _am_ mad, I still _mostly_ love you all the time." The speech was grave and apologetic and sealed with a kiss to the velvet cheek.

Jess couldn't help but smile at the unprompted _making up_ and rumpled his little girl's hair and gave her a squeeze with his left arm, holding Oliver close with his right. Rory appeared on the stairs without any audible warning footsteps, and he looked up with the look of a scapegrace caught in some kind of mischief. Her eyes sparkled at him and her lips, though not laughing or even molding into an outright smirk, betrayed how much she loved happening upon the three of them so embraced.

Jess raised an eyebrow, every inch as impish as the moment before, though being affectionate to one's children is hardly a misdemeanor. "So much for naps," he shrugged.

"Or writing," Rory responded.

"Or writing," he nodded sagaciously, but with a twinkle in his eye.

Rory strolled over with eyebrows raised high and a deliberate innocence, ducking under Jess' shoulder to join the family hug, effectively wedging Jessica between the two of them, gazing upward. Jess' heart swelled into a complete circle…a wholeness…even if just for that brief moment, and he longed with all of his heart to keep this book off the shelf, open, and never-ending.

_**A/N: It occurs to me that for those who have never read "Pay the Piper" this story may seem OOC. Jess Mariano helping someone else to understand and cope with their emotions? Makes me curious what you think. What's your impression of this? ...whether you've read the previous stories or not, really, I'd love to know your thoughts.**_


	2. Like The Hulk and Doc Ock

**A/N: In a long-standing tradition of indecision and bowing to my readers' preferences ;) I've decided to continue this. In another long-standing tradition, or what is rapidly becoming a long standing tradition, it will not be in chronological order. Because writers are allowed to be wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey. So, here's more.**

_Chapter 2 - Like The Hulk and Doc Ock_

**_Earlier..._**

Since Oliver had been born, despite the natural complete upheaval of any normal sleep schedule, despite the blessed wonder and joy of this beautiful, tiny miracle, and despite the inherent craziness of diapers and spit-ups and feeding and dressing and the million other tiny things that make up infant care, both Jess and Rory had been making a concerted effort to spend time one-on-one with Jessica; also to include her in everything possible that had to do with the new baby, but mostly to make her feel that she hadn't lost anything in terms of preciousness to both her parents.

Sibling rivalry might be something inevitable. Then again, with such a significant age difference, maybe it wasn't. In any case, they didn't want Jessica to have any legitimate reason to feel insecure. They'd talked to her a lot ahead of time to make sure that she knew how much she was loved and valued, and that this baby's presence didn't change that.

In spite of all their best efforts, there was something definitely wrong…

She loved baby Oliver. There didn't seem to be any trouble in that regard. But she'd been rebuffing Rory's affection. Jess knew it hurt Rory. She'd never done it before. Even when Jess and Rory were newlyweds, she loved her new mother dearly. There had been a rash of uncharacteristic misbehavior at that point which they had to sort through and get to the root of, but none of it had been directed at Rory. This was new…and troubling.

It started off merely as…kind of ducking Rory's hugs, stiffening at her kisses. But, it had gotten worse. She was avoiding Rory altogether, and when Rory tried to talk to her, she was giving her the cold shoulder and refusing to speak; and in just everyday things, when Rory tried to give her any kind of direction, she would do as told icily or with snappish remarks, or would pretend she hadn't heard what Rory told her at all.

Jess had tried to talk to her multiple times when Rory had already tried and failed, and although she didn't treat him the way she'd been treating Rory, she still wouldn't open up to him and tell him what was wrong.

Even though the attitude she was showing Rory wasn't one he would normally put up with, he was hesitant to discipline her for it in any way, because he was almost certain there was an underlying emotional issue, and he wasn't sure how to find out what it was, or what was the best way to deal with it. So, he just kept seeking opportunities to talk to her, trying different angles…but, he seemed to be getting no place.

He didn't want to assume that it would pass, or ignore it and let whatever was bothering her fester, but there didn't seem to be a whole lot he could _do_. In the end, he figured that maybe at some point it would come to a head; and maybe that would make it _possible_ to deal with. He wasn't looking forward to whatever that would look like.

If getting progressively worse was the process of _coming to a head_, the morning of the day Truncheon was scheduled to start boxing up before the remodel, things definitely seemed to be coming to a head. It was a school holiday and Rory was still off on maternity leave, so Rory had suggested they all come to Truncheon and pitch in. She and Jess could take turns with the backpack baby carrier, and Jess wouldn't be stuck doing most of the boxing by himself; since Matt had a morning doctor's appointment and Chris had back-to-back meetings most of the day.

At breakfast, Jessica was silent and didn't eat. She shoved her food around the plate so it looked partially eaten and when everyone else was done eating she scraped the "remainder" into the trash. After repeated urgings to get dressed, she still sat, unmoving in the corner of her room with her face buried in a book. When Rory started panicking about the time and trying to urge her along, she replied stubbornly, "I _don't_ wanna _go_," which left Rory flummoxed. She always wanted to go to her dad's bookstore, even when it was completely impractical to go there.

"Well, we are all going, and you are _not_ going in your pajamas," Rory told her, but Jessica just settled back further into the corner, holding her book high and close so that it covered her face. Rory left the room with a ragged groan of pure frustration, putting her clawed hands to the sides of her face.

Jess had been dressing Oliver at that moment, and Rory came up to him, saying abruptly, "_I'll_ finish up with Oliver. _You_ deal with Jessica!" He stood up with and puffed out a sigh, going into no nonsense mode.

His daughter's eyes were staring at the page without moving across it, so she was clearly stewing about something without taking in the words on the page in front of her. "You're not reading," he stated plainly, called her bluff. "We are leaving in ten minutes. Put the book down. Take your pajamas off. Put your clothes on. Unless you want me to put your clothes on _for_ you like I just did with Oliver." She put down the book and grabbed the shirt Rory had placed next to her. "_Thank_ you."

When he went back across the hall, Rory was filling the diaper bag, and shook her head. "At least she'll listen to you," she sighed out.

"This is not okay," Jess muttered, strapping Oliver into the hybrid child-carrier/car seat.

"I am very well aware of that fact." Rory pursed her lips, struggling to get the zipper closed with eyebrows worried into tired lines. Neither of them had slept much the night before, and that wasn't helping things.

Jess sighed out some of the tension and rubbed his hand up and down on Rory's back for a moment before the stubborn zipper broke off in Rory's hand. She flung the unmanageable thing onto the bed and put her fist to her mouth to keep from crying.

"Come here," Jess said softly, attempting to usher her into his arms, which she half accepted before pushing back with a quick breath and a voice that almost cracked with suppressed tears. As she spoke, her eyes widened and a look of desperation covered her face.

"No, Jess, we don't have time! You've gotta open up, and I've got to find something to use for a diaper bag, and we've got to plan for at least two more stubborn _I'm-going-to-pretend-I'm-not-listening-to-you_ Jessica delays, and we are going to be _late!_"

He drew her to him once more, saying tenderly, "If Truncheon opens late, Truncheon opens late. Come on, just for a second." With the soft breath she released, he could feel her muscles soften a little in his embrace.

"I don't like being late," she sniffled.

"I know," he cooed, wrapping his arm around her so that it cradled her waist. "Thirty seconds won't make us late."

"You said one," she pouted.

"Shh." He lifted her chin with his forefinger, and pressed his lips to hers. "It takes at least thirty for a proper kiss," he said, letting one kiss melt into another.

He felt her lips curl into a smile. "It does not," she laughed.

"That depends on how you define a proper kiss," he said, showing her exactly how he defined one, and felt her dissolve fully into his arms. "_Now_, we can go."

"Says you," she replied, voice still soft from the kiss. "I still need to find something else to use as a diaper bag."

"You got a safety pin?" he asked, curling his shoulders to stretch his spine.

"Too small," she joked.

"No, I mean to…" he smirked and rolled his eyes, gesturing to the zipper minus the broken-off pull-tab.

"Oh, _thaaaat's_ what you meant," she teased, leaning past him to a tin on the dresser, retrieving a safety pin. "By the way, that's were I keep them." She nodded and stuck out her lower lip. "In case you ever need to know."

He nodded and raised his eyebrows to acknowledge the statement as he took the safety pin from her to attach the makeshift zipper pull. "_Now_, we can go," he repeated, gesturing to the mickey-moused diaper bag and properly secured infant.

"No, Jessica's not ready yet," Rory reminded him, the tension buzzing in her voice.

"Fireman's carry, if necessary," he smirked, only half joking.

When they got to Truncheon, Jess hoped things would be more copasetic. Working with books was something that agreed with all three of them, so that boded well, at least. They were starting with Chris and Matt's personal collection upstairs before they began on the shelved stock. Matt had recently made a huge Friends of the Library haul and none of them had been sorted yet. They were just in random, tumbling stacks. So, once Oliver had been secured to Rory's back - since Jess was liable to be navigating the stairs if customers came - they pulled out the empty, broken-down boxes and assembled them. That finished, they were about to start sorting through and organizing the stacks before putting them away, when the bell above the door chimed and Jess popped downstairs to see to the new arrival.

It was an older gentleman in a once-crumpled felt hat and brown argyle sweater who had happened upon Truncheon and popped in to browse. Jess let him know he'd be there if he needed anything, and busied himself at the desk where he wouldn't encroach upon his customer's browsing.

After a few moments, he could hear wafting from above the murmur of his wife's voice, tinged with impatience, and his daughter's, colored with sarcasm. He cringed, scratching at the side of his face as he wished he'd paid more attention to whether the man who entered was wearing any sort of a hearing aid. That would be nice.

It went quiet again, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Do you carry any books by…oh, dear, what was the name? Strothelmeyer…or Strom…Stro? Gracious, I've forgotten," Jess pulled himself from his own thoughts several minutes later to turn his attention to the man's inquiry.

"Um…do you maybe know the first name? Or the title of one of their books?" he asked, waking up the laptop on the desk and doing a quick amazon search for S-T-R-O. "Stroustrup, maybe?" he suggested. The books by Stroustrup were on computer programming, so it seemed doubtful, but that seemed to be the only author that… wait, no. There was one more. "Or maybe, Strout? Elizabeth Strout?"

"That's it!" the man replied, grinning.

Jess was pleased he could help with the name at least. "I'm sorry, though. I'm afraid we don't happen to stock any of her titles."

"Oh, I see," the man said, disappointed, and Jess started to hear again, the voices from above, louder this time. "I wish I'd-" The man stopped, glancing upward.

"Were you looking for yourself, or for someone else?" Jess asked, raising his voice to mask the steadily raising volume from up the stairs. "Her books seem to be geared toward teenage girls," he fudged, having glanced briefly at only one description, "so were you maybe looking for a gift, something that would-"

"Jessica, **_stop!_**"

He raised his voice louder. "-that would-"

A book came flying over the railing and landed with a dull thud only a yard or so from the man's feet, Jess' eyes widening, horrified.

"Excuse me!" he interjected abruptly, rounding the counter and putting a hand on the man's shoulder as he hurried past, to make certain he didn't knock the man over after he could have easily been brained by soaring books. He didn't quite hear the man's dazed response as he sprinted for the stairs, Jessica's voice, a barrage of screamed incoherent defiance. He cleared three steps at a time, and made out "_stupid books!_" and "_ridiculous!_" before another book came sailing through the air, its corner grazing his ear.

Reaching the top of the steps, he saw a rabid wildcat disguised as his little girl, red-faced, snarling, spitting and hurling books at Rory as fast as she could pick them up. Rory held a large volume in front of her as a shield and backed toward a corner so Oliver would be protected on all sides. Fortunately, in her frenzy, Jessica had an extraordinarily bad aim.

"_…'cause everything has to be PERFECT! Everything has to be JUST RIGHT! What if ONCE, just ONCE…"_

_"What is-? Stop! -DON'T!_" Jess shouted, words tumbling out of his mouth and getting totally lost amidst Jessica's screaming. He tried first to confiscate the ammo, but the books slid past his fingers before he could grip them. He tried to block her whirlwind of fury and got pummeled and scratched for his troubles. Eventually, all he could do was wrap himself around her, cocooning the tiny Tasmanian devil until she could no longer spin destructively out of control. That accomplished, he managed to clap a hand over her mouth to stop the screaming and all but ignore the teeth scraping his palm, trying to find something to bite down on.

He flashed Rory an incredulous look, as if to ask whether his Jessica had been blasted by a gamma bomb, or exposed to a radiation leak that fused mechanical arms to her body and brain. Rory mirrored the look of incredulity, shaking her head; and Jess smiled wanly and helplessly at her from his position as human containment field, then nodded his head toward the stairs, signaling her to go down and see to the customer he'd abandoned. She heaved a dazed sigh and started downstairs.

Jess ushered the fuming, thrashing girl into the next room, closing the door behind them with his shoulder. When he released her from the protective strait-jacket embrace, she whirled around, flailing in the same violent sort of frenzy she'd worked herself into before he grabbed hold of her in the other room. He held her off lightly with one hand, but her fist jabbed out and caught him in the lower bicep, much harder than he would have anticipated.

"_Ow!_" he exclaimed, clutching the bicep with his other hand, and fixing her with a glare. "That's_ enough!_" Jess warned, a flash like reflected steel in his eyes. Her frenzy halted but she still stood there breathing fire. "_What is going on?_" he demanded.

"I _HATE her!_ She is _NOT my mom!_ And I _DON'T_ have to do _anything she says!_" Jessica screamed, venomously. Jess' eyebrows raised and the glare turned to a searching look. The little girl was trembling with rage, and Jess knew in his gut that she'd have to dissolve into tears before there would be any reasoning with her.

"Are you done?" he asked, calmly. Defiance blazed from her eyes as they snapped into a glare, but she was silent. The sadness in Jess' eyes doused the flame, and it subsided a little. "Turn around," he directed, very quietly. He wasn't even sure where this instinct came from, but he knew this was what she needed.

"What?" she asked with confusion, her voice taking on his quiet.

"You're about to be spanked." His voice was hushed, calm, but resolute. "Turn around." Jessica's lower lip trembled, and she bit it. She looked nearly ready to rebel against this, but seemed to think better of it - her head slunk down, and she turned. Jess held her with his left forearm across her shoulders, bracing her up, and with his right hand, rapidly delivered three sharp smacks, calculated to produce just a tiny wince even through blue jeans. The first two prompted a tiny "ow!" and with the last smack, just harder than the others, the dam burst, and she turned and buried her face in her dad's chest, bawling wildly.

No matter how much he told himself that he was doing this because he loved her, making her cry never hurt any less. He'd never punished her with so little prelude or formality, but Jess knew that, more than the punishment, she needed a sharp re-direct, a catalyst, a deliberate straw to break the camel's back - letting her release the pent up pain and anger she'd been spewing out in every direction in a way that was non-destructive, giving her an excuse to cry it all out. He let her cry as long as she needed to, hoping her tears would soften her heart and help it to start healing. The comfort of tears had been denied him so long that maybe he over-valued their restorative properties, but he knew his little girl, and had many times seen that the sun shone the brightest from her eyes after a fall of rain.

It took a long time for her sobbing to subside into silent gasps every few seconds, then soft sniffling. He continued to hold her gently, and spoke softly, but firmly.

"You can't act like that, and you can't talk like that, Jessica. I won't allow it." At this, the little girl stiffened slightly, and pulled herself out of his embrace, beginning to bridle in indignation, but before she could get stirred up further, he continued. "Now, you can get mad at Rory for telling you what to do, and you get can get mad at me for spanking you - but you _cannot_ lash out in a way that could seriously hurt somebody, and you _cannot_ talk with that kind of disrespect." He looked at her, levelly. "Now, I know, you have another mom. I have never said a word against her to you, and I don't intend to. And, I can't force you to think of Rory as your mom. I don't want to _try_ to do that." Jess rubbed the back of his hand against his lips, looking down at his wedding ring as he did so. "But, from the _moment_ Rory met you…she's been here for you, and she's loved you, and taken care of you the _best_ way she knows how - and that _deserves_ respect." He sighed and looked at Jessica tight-lipped before starting to speak again. "If she heard what you said when you first came in here…it would break her heart." At this, Jessica looked at the floor, and two tears landed there in quick succession. "She doesn't deserve that." These last words were almost a whisper.

"Now, considering the way you behaved out there," his eyes darting toward the door, "and then in here…three swats was actually letting you off pretty easy. As a matter of fact, if you ever _throw_ things at her or your baby brother again, I will personally light a _fire_ to your butt with my bare hand," he said pointedly, fixing her with a keen look that made her eyes dart to the floor again. "But, for right now," he said, in a softer tone, "letting you off easy is exactly what I'm gonna to do. What you're going to do…is, first off, let yourself calm down…then you will go out there and apologize…you will clean up the mess you made…and you'll be respectful and obedient."

His quiet tone of authority, and deliberate, direct logic seemed to allow Jessica to center herself. She looked into Jess' eyes for a moment, mutely communicating acceptance, and then looked at the floor, drawing in and releasing several deep, cleansing breaths. She turned toward the door purposefully and took two steps forward before faltering. Her breath hitched in her chest, and she turned and looked back at Jess, suddenly looking wounded. The look caught Jess in the stomach. She choked on a sob, and Jess rushed forward to catch her as she collapsed, wretchedly weeping, into his arms. Her sobs before had seemed to be a release…a relief, even. This fresh outburst had an edge of desperation and despair. He hadn't seen this wave coming - and it scared him.

He led her to the wall, slowly sinking down to sit on the floor, snatched a blessedly nearby pillow, and eased her down to lie with her head on the pillow in his lap - one arm cradling her head while the fingers of his other hand combed through her hair, soothingly. She'd been crying like this for over three minutes, her sobs turning to frantic gasps. He'd been dulcetly urging her to …_hush now_…_shhh..._ and telling her ..._I've got you...you're safe...I love you and I'm not letting go...I'm right here..._ rocking her slowly back and forth, but her tears and her sobs just kept coming.

"What is it, little girl?" he whispered, tenderly. "What is it?…What's wrong?" Her sobs turned to a pathetic whimpering that tore at his heart even more. "Jessie…talk to me!" he pleaded.

In a voice so quiet and full of tears he could hardly make out the words, she answered, "I…want…my…mom." He groaned inwardly, bowing his head. _Of course that's where this is coming from. How could I not have seen that? It was staring me right in the face._ He silently kept on stroking her hair, alternately rubbing her shoulders - doing everything in his dad repertoire of actions that had ever been successful in comforting his little one, but she just whimpered brokenly, curling in on herself, muscles tightening desperately as if trying to hold, and squelch, and control the pain. He of all people should understand what she was going through. His mind flashed back to nights he'd tried to forget - nights that he'd lain on his bed when he was still a very little boy, silent tears streaming down and soaking his pillow - tears for the dad he never knew - the dad who had to be better than all the creeps and bullies Liz brought home - the dad that never came back. Of course, no matter what, there would come a day when Jessica would want her mom. Today was that day.

"Do you remember her?" he asked softly, looking down into his daughter's big brown eyes, swimming in tears. She bit her lip, sniffling raggedly as her tears continued to stream down, pooling uncomfortably in her ears.

Finally, her voice came out in a strained whisper, "I don't know." She sounded so lost and so frightened. Jess bent as far as his back would allow, hugging her to him. He kissed her hair, and gazed at her, pain in his eyes. "What's she like?" she whispered. He smiled wanly at her, brushing away one tear, and the next, and the next.

"She has a smile just like yours," he told her, tracing her lips with his thumb, "with the same pretty, pink lips…and she used to laugh all the time." He nodded, pressing his lips together. "Her eyes are big and round and beautiful, like yours, but they're blue…and yours usually look happier." He took a breath, playing with her curls. "Her hair is curly, like yours, but blonde…and she always kept it cut short-right around her chin," and he gestured toward his own jaw line, demonstrating the length. "She liked to draw like you do." He smiled at her, fingering the spot on Jessica's smile line where her dimple appeared when she was happier. He loved that little spot. That secret precious place that only revealed itself in her happiness. He was missing it now. "She liked rock music-always sang along with the radio in the car when her favorite songs came on-always said someday she wanted to start a rock band." Jess scrounged around his brain, trying to remember other nice things he could tell her about Shane. He knew there must be some. _She always brought up the rock band when she'd had too much to drink. She'd sing anytime, but when she was drunk, she was always going to start a rock band._ Something nice. Something you can tell a kid. "She liked to wear cherry-red lipstick." He nodded. _It left bright red lip prints on all her cigarettes._ "She was really pretty." _Sexy bombshell - Marilyn Monroe type. That would be okay to tell her when she was older…bombshell…leave out the sexy part._ He knew he needed to stop now. He couldn't follow this train of thought any further without getting into her emotional problems, her selfishness, and the nastier things he hoped his little girl would never find out about her mother.

"Why did you take me away from her?" she asked tearfully. Jess stayed quiet for several long moments, trying not to betray the knife sticking out of his heart. It was a natural question - an innocent question.

"Well…" he began carefully, "when I found out that I had a little girl, I _knew_ that I was gonna love you. So, when your mom asked me if I would come get you, and bring you home with me, and take care of you - I was just _so happy_ that I got to keep you, and be with you. I was so glad that I got the chance to love my little girl! Maybe I was a little selfish, wanting you all for myself - but, she said it was okay." He crafted the words carefully, wanting Jessica to hear only how much she was loved and wanted, while telling nothing but the truth. But the little girl only seemed to hear one thing.

"Why didn't she want me?" she choked, and the tears spilled faster and faster. He wiped them gently, a lump in his throat, heart breaking for his little girl.

"I don't know, Jessie…" his voice caressed, "I honestly don't know." His thumb swept along the slopes of her face. He knew them all by heart…every beautiful inch. "I don't know how _anyone_ could not want _you_."

Her eyes shut tight, and she burrowed her face in his abdomen, shaking with silent shivering sobs. Jess sighed brokenly, his right arm around her shoulders, squeezing her tight, while he inhaled sharply through his nose and brought his left wrist up to his lips, choking back emotion. After a minute or so, Jessica drew her face back, containing her sobs, and looked up at him.

"Daddy?" her lips and chin quivered uncontrollably. He nodded encouragingly for her to continue, unable to find his voice. "I want…" she choked on the tears. "I want…" and she broke down again.

"You want your mom," he finished for her, gently, cradling her chin in his hand. "And that's okay," he assured her. "It's okay to want your mom." She cried harder, but he could feel that there was some relief in these tears. She had permission to feel what she was feeling. "It doesn't mean you love me any less. It doesn't mean that you love Rory any less, either." Fresh waves of sobbing came with each sentence. "You have a right to need your mom!" His voice caught, and it was agonizing to continue. "You have a right to be angry at me for taking you away from her!" His breathing was jagged. "And you have a right to be angry at her for letting you go!" He realized he needed to keep going. "You have a right to be angry at Rory for trying to take her place in your heart!" There was more. "You have a right to be angry at baby Oliver for having his mom and his dad!" She had to know this. Jess still hated himself for the part of his heart that couldn't help hating his little sister. "You - have - a - _right - to - FEEL - ANYTHING - and - EVERYTHING_ - that you feel!" This was when Jessica pulled herself up, and half-sitting wrapped her arms around Jess' waist, squeezing with every ounce of strength she had, sobbing…and sobbing…louder, and more wildly…not trying to hold it in any more. He wrapped his arms around her head, kissing her hair and choking on a few dry sobs himself. "That's right…." he soothed, giving her the strong arms she needed around her to make her feel secure, rubbing his hand in comforting circles on her back, "…let it _alllll out_….every last drop…just let it flow through you…and right on out." He rocked gently back and forth, taking long slow deep breaths, until her ragged, shuddering, but now voiceless sobs were following them _IN…OUT…IN…OUT… "Breathe_…" he told her softly, "…you can do it…in through your nose," inhaling, "out through your mouth," exhaling - and he kept modeling the deep breaths for her, until her gasps and hitched sobs slowly melted away.

Understandably, her whole body was limp in his arms. Jess shifted her, so one arm was under her neck and shoulders, and the other under her knees. His head bent over her, sheltering. He kissed her eyelids, each in turn. Slowly he started to stand, bracing himself against the wall, lifting her with him. Once standing, he shifted her again, slowly maneuvering until her head lolled on his left shoulder, and he could take all of her weight with his left arm. He opened the door, walking softly out into the common area. Rory was back, anxious, wide eyes filled with hurt for the little one she'd heard crying and wailing so brokenly for so long. Jess' eyes sought Rory's, and he pressed one finger to his lips, then put his hand on Rory's shoulder, squeezing reassuringly.

He took his daughter over to the small couch, signaling Rory with his eyes, he laid her down gently as Rory supplied pillows and blankets to tuck around her like a nest. He nodded toward the little girl, and Rory sat on the floor by Jessica's side, caressing her hair and her face, as Jess went to fill a water glass, and dampen a washcloth with warm, soothing water. He handed the washcloth to Rory and set the glass of water on the coffee table. He pulled over one of the kitchen chairs and took a seat. He watched as Rory wiped the little girl's face with the warm cloth, eliciting a moan of contentment as she leaned into the warmth.

"Can you lift your head up to drink this, Sweetheart?" Rory asked, her voice quiet and sweet. Jessica's eyes sprung open with a little start, realizing it was Rory beside her. She thought it was still her dad. Guilt-ridden tears sprung to her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Mom," the little girl whimpered, her lip beginning to quiver again.

"_Shhh_…" Rory soothed, shaking her head, and cupping the little girl's cheek in her hand, "…no…no…" she said softly, "_we're_ fine," she reassured her, looking intently into the little girl's eyes, her own filled to the brim with mother-love, quick to heal the breach, "_just_ fine." Rory bent down and kissed Jessica softly, reached up and tucked an unruly curl behind her ear, and brought her forehead to rest against hers, biting her lip and smiling a very small smile. "I love you for a thousand forevers," Rory whispered, eyes locked to Jessica's gaze, "no matter what!" She backed up about a foot, "Clear?" she asked touching the tip of the little girl's nose with a playful forefinger. Jessica nodded. "Good," she said, tapping the nose with her finger, while crinkling her own. Rory took the washcloth and gently bathed the reddened streaks where tears had stung the little girl's cheeks.

Jessica looked up at Rory, her jaw working back and forth as she rubbed her lips together in hesitation. Finally, quietly, with her eyes again down along the lines of the blankets she'd been nested in, she said, "I love you too, Mom."

_**A/N: Don't forget to tell me what you think. It makes the "more story" happen. :)**_


	3. Little Girl First

_**A/N: Thank you, everybody, for all of your review love. I'm still working my way through replying to all of the lovely reviews I've gotten. In gratitude, though, here's another chapter. Prepare for another jump back in time. Not too far-two or three months. Enjoy.**_

_Chapter 3 - Little Girl First_

_**Earlier still…**_

He poked his head in at every door in the house, but she just wasn't there. Lastly, he opened the door to her room again, the room she would soon be sharing with the baby. After a quick scan, he almost shut the door, but something made him pause and look down.

There was his little Jessica, huddled down beneath the crib, nearly blending into the shadows. She wasn't crying, but Jess knew the posture. There were tears on the inside.

"Hey…" he said, crouching down to look into her eyes, "why is my little girl sitting here in the dark?" He traced the softness of her cheek with his index finger, and then sat down beside her. She looked up at the window, away from him. "Jessie? It's just me. You can tell me, remember?"

This was what it took for the cloud to burst. The little girl looked down suddenly, eyes closed tight as two quick tears escaped, and shook her head, determinedly. Afterward, she tried to sniff back the tears, and wiped the back of her hand hastily across her nose.

Jess glanced around the darkened room, twilight without lights, shadows on all the little girl things, lastly coming to the crib he was ducking forward to avoid bumping his head into. This had to be hard for her.

"Is this about the baby?" he asked her, softly. She shook her head again, but her chin began to quiver, betraying her. Jess pressed his lips together, and swallowed.

"Come here," he said tenderly, "I think you need some lap time," and he pulled her up onto his knee, cradling her in the crook of his arm, and dropping a kiss on the top of her head.

"Pretty soon, there's gonna be…a lot of changes in this house…" he began, understandingly, "…could be kinda hard to get used to." He looked down at the soft nest of curls he loved. There was a pause, but this time her head bobbed tentatively in agreement. He pulled her in a little closer, next to his heart.

"You've had a room all to yourself for awhile now. It could be pretty hard to get used to sharing again." Jess had a feeling this wasn't what was making his little girl's heart ache, but it was an easier place to start. Jessica shrugged. "Don't mind sharing?" She shook her head again. Jess nodded.

"Might be hard to share other things…" he offered softly. The little head went down again, and he felt her little ribcage jolt with one squelched sob. With his free hand, Jess reached up and began running his fingers through her soft curls, gently untangling them as he spoke. "I promise you, you aren't gonna lose me," he murmured gently, "not even a little bit. With a baby things are going to be really, really busy, and so you're gonna have to share my time a little more than you're used to. But, I will still be 100% _your dad…I promise._" The soft crying continued, voiceless and pitiful.

"She's not gonna want me anymore," the tiny whisper cracked and was barely audible. Jess crouched down, tucking his head down next to hers.

"_What?_" he asked with soft urgency. He knew who _she_ was, and he could follow the logic before she voiced it, but he needed to draw her out. "Why would you think that?" He began wiping the rolling tears away with his thumb as delicately as butterfly wings, love for his little girl haunting his eyes.

"She's going to have a real baby. Why would she want me?" Her precious bell-like voice warbled, but she enunciated the painful words clearly and distinctly. She didn't have to explain what she meant by a _real baby_. He knew clearly enough how much it was going to mean to both of them to have a child who was half his and half hers…a tiny specimen of humankind that was made up of their love. Of course she would be afraid that this irreplaceable, tiny treasure would take her place…would fill, particularly in Rory's heart, a place that she, herself _never_ could. Jess knew the searing pain of being unwanted by the people you love most…particularly as a child. He couldn't bear seeing it in his daughter's eyes, hearing it in her voice, feeling it throbbing from her heart.

He sighed a carefully controlled sigh, looking straight ahead of him, gathering his thoughts and his words and his feelings, blinking more deliberately than usual into the shadows, as his right hand stroked the ruffles on the shoulder of his little girl's flannel pajamas. Turning toward her, he pressed his lips to her temple in gentle assurance. She leaned into the kiss.

The soft words were scant inches from her ear. "Because you're her Jessica." He pressed his lips together carefully checking that the words he was about to speak were true. "No one in the world could ever be more precious to her…than you."

For the first time, she looked up, seeking his eyes. "Not even the baby in her tummy?"

Even in the half-light his eyes spoke to her, almost like music…it wasn't a happy song, but it was sweet and pure and full of love.

"No," he half smiled, "not even the baby in her tummy."

The tears started tumbling from her beautiful brown eyes profusely a moment after he spoke, and she clung to him with the occasional sob. "Are you sure?" she whimpered.

He hugged her close, arms strong and fiercely protective. "Yes. I am _sure_," he spoke firmly, though his voice threatened to break. "She…_loves you._ Nothing can change that." He pulled back, propping her chin up with his finger and looking steadily into her eyes. "_Nothing."_ A more substantial smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and he bit his lips together before giving in to it completely. "No matter _who_ comes along…you were her - little - girl -_ first!" _He punctuated the soft, emphatic words with gentle pokes to her ticklish spots, just gentle enough to not _quite_ tickle, but to conspire with the words to coax a tiny smile from his daughter's face.

Jessica did smile, but it only lasted for a moment before she looked serious again. "She'll still love the baby more," she stated, voice quiet and almost matter-of-fact, as if stating the inevitable.

Jess frowned, unsure how to meet this muted fatalism. After a moment, he looked at her keenly. "Who do you love more…me or Mom?" The question was posed without challenge, but with a clear expectation of decision.

Two round eyes met the query, subtly shocked, and then fluttered rapidly in confusion. Jess kept the smirk off his lips, but was pleased that the question made her stop and analyze.

"That's not nice to ask!" Her voice was indignant, with posture to match.

Jess laughed outright, almost bashing his head against the crib, completely delighted with her forthright way of tossing the answer back at him. It tickled him, and he rocked a little with the deliciousness of it, his eyes dancing as he brushed the curls back from her forehead with the palm of his hand, ending finally by gazing at her with a broad grin filled with simple adoration.

"It's not nice to ask you something that makes you say something not nice," he nodded, "like not loving me as much as you do Rory, or not loving Rory as much as you do me. Neither one of those would be very nice to say." He smiled quietly. "But, when you think about it inside, it probably kinda changes all the time."

She gave a little pondering frown at this.

"I mean…when I'm being a grumpy bear who won't let you go outside because you're sick, and Mom's bringing you all your favorite foods and finding great movies to show you - right then, you probably love her a whole lot more." His eyes and tentative tone challenged her to contest this, even just a little.

Jessica smiled guiltily and her whole face dodged away and she buried it in his shoulder to keep from admitting with her eyes that there was ever a time she loved Rory any more dearly than her dad. He smirked, anything but hurt at the nonverbal admission.

"But, when she makes you do your homework when you _know_ I would have let you play first, I'm….guessing right then, you might just love me a little more." She peeked up at him with a mischievous smile, and he chuckled a little. He resettled her on his lap, facing him again as he held her so she wouldn't tumble off of his knee.

"And sometimes," he said softly, "especially when you're sad, you love me most, because you know I'll understand, and because I was your daddy first." His nod assured her that this was okay. "But there will be times…prob'ly more and more as you get older…that I might not understand, 'cause I've never been a girl. And those are times you'll need your mom, and she'll be there, and she'll help ten times more than I ever could. And, those are times you'll love her best. And, that's okay." Jess reached forward and cradled the side of her face in his left hand, eyes tender. "Does that make sense?"

She nodded into his hand.

He watched her carefully as he continued, easing into the words cautiously. "It's gonna be the same way with mom, with you and this baby." Her eyes rose to meet his, and he gauged his words in her eyes. "Sometimes…the baby will be crying and fussing, and screaming and spitting up…and you'll be doing everything you can to help her take care of the baby, and make her job easier. And, let me tell you, right about then, she's gonna love you _so much more._"

Her eyes seemed to consider this.

"Other times," he shrugged, "the baby will be all smiles and so sweet and tiny and precious…that nobody in their right mind, including you, could _possibly_ love anybody or anything in the _world_ more than that baby…" He smiled at her, a lopsided beguiling smile that hoped she could understand this and not get jealous.

She smiled a little in return.

"And sometimes, even when the baby grows up a little bit, he or she will get an extra bit of love and affection, just for being the baby in the family. It's not really fair, but it happens, just 'cause it does." He shrugged at this, tilting his head to one side, knowing that this could never be an easy thing, going from being the one center of attention to something of a second-in-line, no matter how anyone tried to make up for it, or make sure it didn't happen.

Her face fell, but she tried to hide it.

"Other times, though…" He paused, giving her a sympathetic smile and raising her chin up with his forefinger again. "…you're gonna get…just every scrap of love in her heart. Because…you will _always_ _be_…_her little girl first!_" He looked deeply into her eyes. "And _nothing,_ and _nobody_…can _ever_ change that!"

After absorbing this for a few seconds, Jessica lunged forward with a bone-crushing hug around his middle, which he returned, albeit a bit more gently - still, plenty of papa-bear growl included. It wasn't a short hug either. It was almost debatable whether it would have an end at all. But, when it did, Jess huffed out a rather decided sigh, and fixed his daughter with a "look."

"What?" she asked, smiling. She knew him too well to be unnerved by the look…before any words, she knew the look didn't mean all the dire things it pretended to. There was a smile hiding behind it if you knew where to look for it.

"That baby's gonna have an awfully rough time with me," he deduced, shaking his head.

She half giggled, but hid it as best she could…which wasn't very well at all. "Why?"

"Because, I already know what it's like to have the best kid in the world." His hands spread out at his sides in simple point-of-fact. He shrugged one shoulder and cringed, rubbed his knuckles across his lips for a moment, and when it dropped, his bottom lip stuck out and he shook his head again. "Really, you oughtta feel sorry for this baby! …'cause you are one _tough act to follow!_" He bumped his little girl's knee with his fist teasingly, along with the statement, to emphasize the point.

There it was. Jess could finally breathe a mental sigh of relief. His Jessica's bear-hug was a start, but only when he saw the light twinkling in her eyes again, did he know he'd steered her into safety and peace. It might take awhile to get there, but it was always worth every effort and every second…his little girl was okay again. He knew she'd have other bouts of rain clouds over her heart as things kept changing, and her world kept shifting beneath her feet. But, for right now, this moment, she was happy again. So he was happy again.

"I love you, Daddy." Sweetest words in the whole wide world. Lump in the throat right along with the happiness.

"I love you too, Little Girl…so much."

_**A/N: Would you like more? Tell me what you thought of the last couple of chapters and I'll see what I can do. ;-)**_


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